


The Kid's Not Alright

by LordBlumiere



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, also this is my first fic in years, excuse the dust, it's full of possibilities, sans and asriel have a conversation, this relationship is never explored in fandom and i don't know why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordBlumiere/pseuds/LordBlumiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans tries to talk to Asriel.<br/>He doesn't seem much for conversation.<br/>Nobody is happy with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first fic in a long while. Excuse anything that might be a little off, I kinda threw this out for a friend more than anything, and thought I'd share it with everyone else, too. Undertale really did inspire me, and the characters are all so wonderful. I hope I can capture that in this.
> 
> Also, this relationship needs to be explored way more.
> 
> My apologies for the first chapter not getting into much. I promise the second one'll actually dive into the reason I wrote this fic.

He'd seen the same thing happen, time and time again.

They came. They were attacked. They saved everyone, coming to the surface. But it was inevitable, that after (weeks? months? years? god, it varied so much, he never knew when to expect it) a period of time, they'd reset.

And he'd be sent right back to his bedroom floor, woken up by his brother clattering around in the kitchen, shouting to himself about the usual spaghetti-related things. It was like he was making his own, audience-less cooking show. At least it was better than 'Cooking With A Killer Robot'--he'd seen the same episode too many times now.

He couldn't smile about it anymore. He kept up appearances--for his brother, of course, but for everyone else, too--even the kid. Sure, they kept resetting, and it was beginning to piss him off... but they hadn't done anything malicious. Not in a hundred resets, or less, or more. By now, he'd lost count. Not that it really mattered, anyway--so long as they never went so far as--

\--He didn't want to think about it.

Never mind. Never mind. Better to do nothing, and wait. If the kid was going to do something that awful, surely they would have done it by now.

But then... why did they keep resetting?

Timeline after timeline, nothing seemed to change. He sat in his lab, poring over readings and documents and scribbles from eons ago (or what felt like eons, anyway), but... nothing. Absolutely nothing. The same damn steps, over and over--minor variations, maybe, like whether or not they saved a spider donut, or sang all the way through with Shyren--but... Ultimately, what did it come to?

Nothing. Absolutely, one hundred percent, nothing. Nothing was different; nothing changed. And Sans...

...Well, he was growing tired. Moreso than he'd even been before.

But then... there was one reset. And something _changed_. The entire time he watched the kid make their way through the underground, he saw the determination in their expression grow and grow; it was as if something had clicked in their mind, and only now was it resting on their face, too. At first, the look had set him on edge, thinking it would lead to the worst possible things. But it was more than that, and something had changed.

Even the readings had changed. Another pattern that he'd seen for ages had begun to fluctuate.

And it was in that reset, the one he dared believe might be final, that the son of the royal family made it to the surface, too.

Sans had no idea how this happened. He must have been slacking (hah, as if anything were different, even now) in checking, because after the damned flower had tried to slaughter them all, everything was a blank, a blur, until the kid had returned, holding the hand of another, very shaken, child.

Over breakfast one weekend morning (ketchup, still--it had become a bad habit that he really had no interest in trying to break by this point), it occurred to him that he'd never actually confronted Frisk about this, nor had he even made an attempt to talk to the young prince. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut, and he clenched the bottle hard enough for it to squirt out the top, a glob of ketchup flying up and landing on the pristine white ceiling.

Great. It would be a good decoration til the kid reset again.

...Hah. Old habits died hard, he thought, running his hand over the crown and back of his skull. How long would he be sitting around, waiting for the next reset? Probably the rest of his damn life.

Unless he asked Frisk, or (what was his name again? right, right--) Asriel what the hell had happened on that evening all those weeks ago. Hell, Frisk had told him they'd wanted to give Asriel a proper introduction to him weeks ago.

Sans sighed, though he didn't really need to, and idly tapped out words on the touchscreen of the phone sitting beside him.

**[* hey, kiddo. you still want to introduce me to your best friend?]**

...Something inside him froze after he'd hit the send button. 'Your best friend', the line he'd used... why was that throwing him so badly? What about it was making the discomfort in his chest grow and stir and beat like a heart out of control? What was--

**[* Okay!! Mom said right after breakfast]**

\--Well. That was quick. Sans shoved down the feeling again (that was fine, that was normal), and quickly wrote back.

**[* ok]**

Now, all he could do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans remembers that timeline shenanigans didn't start with Frisk.

In that moment, Sans realized just how awful waiting could be. The feeling in his chest hadn't gone away, and in fact, it was replaced by something even worse--a kind of rolling tension that would have made anyone else run for the hills and never look back. But he wasn't the type to do that. Lazy, maybe--uncaring, perhaps, but he would never let it be said that he was a coward.

Or, at least, he didn't want to think of himself as one, even when the doorbell rang and he heard a voice chattering away outside. It had to have been Asriel; Frisk rarely spoke, and when they wanted to say something they'd usually resort to soft grunts and frantic sign language to get their point across. It worked, for the most part, and it seemed as if Asriel had no problem with it either, what with the way he was running his mouth...

...Sans hesitated before touching the door handle. God. The prince's voice sounded damn familiar, but he couldn't place it. Shoving it down, too, he opened the door, trying to smile (not that he couldn't) as he looked at the kids standing on the porch.

"hey," he said, but Frisk was already halfway in, tugging Asriel behind them. It didn't stop the fuzzier kid from looking strangely at Sans, however, his voice seemingly having died out the second the door opened.

That look was familiar, too, in a way Sans couldn't place. The feeling in his chest boiled up again.

"...hey, kiddo," he said, again, more pointedly directed at Frisk. The smaller of the two children turned around, blinking in obvious confusion. "your friend okay?"

**He's just nervous,** Frisk signed, then hesitated when Asriel tugged firmly on their shirt. **...Really nervous,** they added.

Oh. Well. That explained some things, at least. The way he was moving, the funny look he'd given him... the tug on Frisk's sweater. All of it could be passed off as nerves, but... why? Why would he be so nervous? As far as Sans knew (and he admitted he could be wrong--Frisk had expressed the opposing sentiment the first time in Mettaton's restaurant), he hadn't scared the kid. He was just nervous for no...

...Hang on.

It occurred to Sans, briefly, but long enough that he was able to grasp onto the idea and hold it, that Asriel was really supposed to be dead. Well, no shit, he thought. But then... how did Frisk save him? Where did he come from? How did he...

Oh.

_Oh._

In that moment, the entire world seemed to stop. Sans was frozen in place, watching Frisk sign to Asriel, but their hands were moving so slow in his mind he could barely catch what they were saying. He could practically see the stitches in both kids' sweaters twist with their movements. His clothes were heavy, his mouth was dry, his forehead was somehow drenched with sweat.

That look Asriel had given him. The familiar voice. 'Your best friend'. Sans had nearly forgotten that before Frisk had ever come into the picture, timelines were already being messed with, in a much more violent degree. Most of the time, it hadn't affected him; he'd been able to brush it off as 'losing time', and only went down to his lab to check when things directly affected him (or Papyrus, of course). But every once in a while, he still had nightmares... twisting vines, a wicked smile, a laugh that sounded like a child's mixed with some kind of demon...

_Flowey._

"M-m-mister Sans? Are y... you okay?"

Ah, hell. Sans adjusted himself, trying to ease up. He must have stiffened up when he'd been thinking. But now? Now, he didn't even want to hear that voice. And the face he was being given reminded him too much of lies.

"frisk. you two should go." He didn't bother replying to As--Flow-- _the other one_. Sans' brow was furrowed, and the lights in his eyes had snuffed out the moment he'd realized what was going on. He realized his voice was sharp, biting, perhaps too much, but he didn't care.

**But Sans!** Frisk signed, nearly frantically. **Sans, what's wrong?**

"get out."

"Wait--"

The kid spoke up again, and Sans nearly jolted forward, magic crackling beneath his bone. He was going to do something, anything, protect Frisk, at the very least--

"Wait! Sans I--"

And Frisk was standing in front of him, now, dividing a line between him and the prince. The blue in Sans' eye died, leaving him standing there with his arm outstretched, sweating, chest heaving in breaths of anger. Frisk shook their head, tears in their eyes, and only then did Sans drop his guard, arm slowly dropping to his side.

"I can explain..." Asriel mumbled. His eyes were wide, full of panic... as much as they'd been the day everyone left the underground. "Please, S-Sans, let me explain..." And he was shaking, so much so that his feet were tapping on the ground, and Frisk reached behind to grab one of his hands.

**Sans...**

Frisk's signing was so desperate, so shaky-handed, that Sans finally lowered his shoulders, hunching over again like normal. The smile on his face was tight, pinched as if someone had molded it poorly into clay. A moment passed, strained... Frisk was wiping their eyes, and it seemed like the prince might burst into tears at any moment.

Ah, hell.

"...kid." Still strained. "you like hot chocolate?"

Asriel nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be two chapters... looks like it's gonna be three, eheh.


	3. Chapter 3

Frisk had to make the hot chocolate.

Sans' hands were still too shaky, his mind too full of other thoughts, and as he directed Frisk what to do, he couldn't help but continue to steal glances back at Asriel. Every time he did, the young prince shrunk a little more, until he'd very nearly sunk off the chair and onto the floor under the table. He was making pitiful bleating noises, his hands covering his face. Once in a while, he'd peek out, only for Sans to turn again, and the hands to go right back.

 **Sans,** Frisk signed. Their expression was a mix of sad and stressed. **You're scaring him.**

All Sans could think to answer was a noncommittal 'mm'. Frisk didn't seem pleased by this, but as Sans expected, they let it go, turning back to the stove to stir the slowly-heating mixture in the pot. Again, he turned to look at Asriel.

Now the kid really was on the floor. The sounds coming out of him were now more like a distressed hyena. Despite himself, Sans had to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside of him. More likely than not it would be the kind of laughter that would mask his real feelings.

Like the fact that, somewhere deep down, he still wanted to blast the kid.

...

Heh. Morbid.

Sans turned back to Frisk again. They seemed to be just about done, stirring intently, then reaching over to turn off the stove. Well, they'd probably done this before, in resets prior, Sans thought, then tried to bite it back as he watched them pour from the pot into three mugs.

Three? He thought he'd only put out two... Well, whatever. He'd let Frisk have his, or something. He didn't even notice at first when they'd sat down at the table, nor when they pulled Asriel out of his (attempted) hiding spot, nor when they were signing at him to come over. He only noticed when the prince said his name (extremely hesitantly-- ~~good, he should be afraid~~ ), and finally made his way over to sit down.

He sank into his chair, staring at the chocolate-and-marshmallow-filled cup in front of him. Had he gotten out the marshmallows? He couldn't remember. Frisk was a smart kid, though; even if he hadn't, they'd probably found them...

...Concentrating so much on the hot chocolate, at least, was keeping his mind off of Asriel. The opposite was certainly not true, however; Asriel was fidgeting even moreso than before, staring into the mug as the three giant-size marshmallows bobbed up and down. The only one actually drinking the hot chocolate now was Frisk, who was merely looking back and forth between Sans and Asriel like some sort of referee. Eventually, they put their mug down with a sigh, startling Sans moreso than it did Asriel.

 **You two need to talk,** they signed. Their facial expression was more determined than Sans had seen in weeks. **Now. About everything.**

Even though Asriel had said mere minutes ago that he was going to explain everything, he looked more like he'd rather jump into his own grave. Sans wasn't exactly eager, either. He stared at Asriel, who proceeded to stare back into his hot chocolate.

"...so. about the flower. about _you._ "

The prince swallowed audibly and noticeably. The pinpricks of light in Sans' eyes shrunk until they were gone. At this point, he didn't even care how threatening he was coming off. Frankly, if it would make the kid less likely to do anything, so be it.

" **kid. why'd you do it.** "

Asriel burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, I--I don't know, I did some messed up things, I know--" Now Frisk was rubbing the prince's shoulder, and Sans almost felt guilty for a moment. "--I wasn't a very good flower, I know... I was really, _really_ awful... I tried to k-kill people..."

Sans held his tongue. 'Kill or be killed'-- _no shit, Sherlock,_ he thought to himself. If it had just been the two of them, he would have said that, but Frisk...

"--a, and, I know it was really bad... I-it was really bad, and _I_ was really b-bad... b-but mister Sans, I wasn't doing it because it felt good... or b-because it made me feel good o-or... a-anything like that..."

"what?"

That admission caught Sans off guard. The pricks of light in his eyes quickly returned. Something was wrong here, something fundamentally off. He'd known why, in his nightmares, Fr--the _demon_ had killed people. Because they could. Because their LV, their EXP, their ATK and DEF went up. Because seeing those numbers climb higher, seeing themselves get stronger, was a thrill. And just because they _could_. But this? This was something different; Sans could feel it somewhere in his core, and he could tell Asriel knew that he was caught off guard, too.

"...I... I couldn't feel anything. I didn't even have a soul, ha ha..." Asriel's voice cracked, and he buried his head in Frisk's shoulder.

For a moment, the room was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the birds outside, chirping like nothing was going on. Sans was frozen to the spot, his hands gripping the side of the table so hard that he swore he'd leave bone prints in it. He remembered, all those years ago, the experiments Alphys had been doing with determination. He remembered her telling him that she was working on something big, something that might be a breakthrough to smash the barrier. He remembered her frustration when she couldn't get it right, and her admission that 'plants probably can't gain the will to live, anyway'.

He remembered the first day he noticed the resets. The first time he ever met Flowey. The look in the flower's eyes, something sinister, but blank. He remembered thinking that there was determination there, but not much else... Sans chalked it up to rage, senseless anger, something that would just consume the damn thing until it burnt itself out.

"...I just..." Asriel croaked, bringing Sans back into the moment. "...I just... w-wanted someone to play with me. I thought... I thought that if I kept doing what I was doing, then Ch--Frisk--" (that correction--looks like there was something else he'd have to ask Frisk about later) "--would just keep having to reset... and then I-I could have someone to play with forever. Someone w-who wouldn't leave. Someone who was different, someone who was _interesting..._ "

Despite everything--despite the anger that had been coursing through him mere moments prior--Sans found himself beginning to _understand_. It almost terrified him at first. But he, too, had to force himself to admit... Frisk really had been intriguing, important, different, and interesting. They were the anomaly that had shaken things in the underground every single time they came back. They were the reason Sans had thrown himself into studying timelines again. They were someone he didn't want to lose... despite knowing what they _could_ do, Sans kept hoping (against all reason) that what they _would_ do would be something so much more meaningful and right than that.

A sigh came out from between Sans' teeth. Asriel visibly tensed, but Sans tried to relax himself, somehow, make himself look less threatening.

"kiddo," he said, quietly this time. "i know you were nervous, but. thanks for tellin' me the _root_ of your problem. now i know what it _stem_ med from. you want i should _leaf_ you alone about it?"

Everything was silent for another long moment. Then, Frisk began to giggle. And before long, Asriel was laughing, too; the cacophony echoing off the walls. Sans chuckled, too, his grin genuine, now. It had been a while since he'd smiled like that.

After the laughter died down, Sans spoke up again.

"look. what you did was awful. but i won't hold it against you," he said. "you're making amends for it. you're making frisk happy; your mom and dad are closer than they've been in years because of you." He looked up at the ceiling (looked like the ketchup was still up there) before continuing. "i might be a judgmental guy, kid. some days i might still want to blast your ears right off your head--" Asriel jumped slightly, and Frisk glared-- "--but i ain't going to do it. you're making up for what you've done. and so long as you can live with yourself, so long as you do the right thing from here on out... you ain't a bad kid."

The room didn't feel tense anymore. Even Sans felt relief; it wasn't a familiar feeling, but it was a calming one. The prince was sitting up straighter; Frisk was smiling, and everything...

Well. Sans wasn't one to hold out hope most of the time. But this seemed like as good a time as any to try and find some.

"...y'know," he said. "you two should be glad i'm not a vegetable."

 **Why?** Frisk signed.

"'cause otherwise i wouldn't _carrot_ all about this."

Asriel groaned, and Frisk laughed, and Sans was smiling, a real, genuine smile. Hell. Maybe that kid was alright, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. <3


End file.
